


Dream State

by deltachye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x takashi shirogane]Alive in the world of the dead. Dreamers are corpses—and Shiro finds that he can’t tell whether he’s still alive or not.[response to Dream vs. Reality challenge by Schwer-von-Begriff]





	1. [i] ordinarydream

**Author's Note:**

> as much as i love to see him suffer as an author pls don't let the new shiro die :^)

_wake up._

* * *

 

“What are you doing here?!”

He screamed at you, gripping both of your shoulders and shaking you. Your head lolled like a doll’s—or a dead woman’s—and the shiny trickle of blood from your mouth traced its way down the side of your cheek. He looked up and saw the witch, her hand glowing with writhing violet magic. He watched pathetically as your limp body rose, staggering away from him towards her.

“Don’t,” he pleaded, unable to move. He reached out for you but you did not turn, continuing to walk away, farther and farther until your form blurred into nothingness. “Don’t, please. Take me, not her, I’m begging of you…”

You screamed loudly and he choked on his own tears.

“Shiro, are you listening?”

“Hm?”

You looked up at him with large, confused eyes. They were the same eyes he had fallen in love with so long ago, but now, they looked odd. Hazy, and off, even. As if you were a clone. It was you, but… not quite.

He blinked and looked around. The Garrison’s cafeteria was both familiar and not. There were the same lights, the same cracked tables that everybody made fun of; but there was no smell of thick stew, and there were no other cadets eating or talking. The vast hall was totally empty. Silence reigned supreme. He looked back to you, who stirred the soup with a spoon absentmindedly.

“You’re a monster, you know that?” you said nonchalantly.

“…what are you saying?”

Suspicion made his blood run cold. The two of you hardly spoke Japanese to each other, especially since you had only learnt it during high school and university. You had been embarrassed that he was fluent and refused to answer him in his first language, since it was not yours… but somehow, in the empty cafeteria, you spoke it confidently and perfectly.

“I said you’re a monster. Look at yourself. You’re not even human any more. So what are you?” you stopped stirring the soup and looked up coldly. “You’re a damn freak.”

_Teme bakemone..._

His right arm was numb and he groped at it with his left hand desperately, grasping nothing but fluid air. Looking down he saw nothing at all—there was merely an empty sleeve where his arm should be.

“What’s happening?” he pleaded with you, but you merely kept eating quietly.

“I can’t love a freak,” you said solemnly, looking up at him once more.

“Do you like this one?”

He nodded slightly, not nearly as interested in the dress being held up as you were. His gaze wandered around the shop. Unfamiliar faces roamed, as was expected in a store. A girl sat beside him on the bench and stared at him oddly. He smiled reassuringly, grateful for the distraction.

“Hey. What’s up?” he asked. He noticed that she was alone and looked around for any parents who might be looking for their child. “Are you lost?”

“No,” she said.

“Where’re your parents? Do you know where they are?”

“I know where they are. They’re burning in Hell.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed, but the girl continued speaking.

“You didn’t protect him,” the girl whimpered in a strained voice, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. “My brother and father could be dead because of you.”

“But… what? Who are you?”

The girl was now Matt, and he looked terrified.

“What the hell are you doing, Shiro?” he asked in a weak, dazed voice. Shiro’s eyes fell to Matt’s leg, which was bloodied profusely, the sticky substance having no scent. Matt’s entire body shuddered and his eyes flickered around like that of a cornered animal. Prey. A dying rabbit as a fox licked its lips.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I had to protect you. Don’t you get it?!” Shiro tried to explain, but Matt disappeared with a final screech of pain. He turned and saw you looking up at him, your lips pressed together in a tight line.

“I’ll miss you when you’re gone,” you sighed, rubbing your face. He could tell that you were trying not to cry. There was a tightness in your jaw that indicated your attempt to hold back tears. Shiro wanted to come closer to you but found that he couldn’t, stationary in his spot as an observer. You paced around the small dorm room, tapping your fingers on your legs as you tried to figure out what to say. Your hands moved wildly with odd hand gestures as you spoke to yourself. “I mean, I’m proud of you, but I’m gonna miss you… and I mean, you totally have to go up to the Kuiper Belt, so it’s selfish of me to want you to stay…” You groaned before coming close to him, cupping his face in your soft, gentle hands.

“I love you, you know? So stay safe up there. Get back to me in one piece. The entire world is celebrating you as their hero, but you’re my hero too, okay?”

‘I know,’ he thought, his heart aching as you turned away to wipe your tears. ‘I love you more than… I _need_ you—’

“Shiro! Wake up, man!”

“What?!” He sat up rigidly, his right hand clenched as tightly as the bionic network would allow. Lance looked surprised and leered back. Shiro rubbed his eyes, surprised to find tears welling over, tracing hot patterns down his scarred cheeks. Hastily he swiped them away, feigning an attempt to fight off the bleariness. Shiro hoped desperately that Lance hadn’t seen.

“You good, man?” Lance asked hesitantly.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, the recollections of his dreams fast fading as he blinked. He swallowed the nausea and dryness in his throat and clambered off of the couch. He hadn’t even realized he had fallen asleep, and the tablet he had been reading lay on the floor, where it had slipped from his hands. He looked back to Lance, snapping back to alertness; after all, he was a soldier first, and a human being second. “Is there something wrong?”

“Coran and Allura are calling us for a meeting. Are you… sure that you’re fine? You don’t look too hot.” Lance’s angular eyes narrowed further with suspicion and concern.

Shiro nodded, relaxing his fist wearily.

“Sure I am.”

In his head, he could hear you scoff gently, the way you did whenever you knew he was lying.


	2. [ii] luciddream

Whenever Shiro dreamt, he couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fiction. Often times he would merely accept whatever he saw, only finding it strange once he woke up. Every so often he would be able to lucid dream; that is, he could control himself in the world of endless possibility.

It took him a terrifyingly long minute to remember what you looked like. There was a beauty mark that was hidden under your clothes, and your hair had been styled this way when he’d departed Earth… he wasn’t great with the fine details of your makeup and clothes and instead tried to recall what you’d looked like during his departure ceremony. After a while he felt that he had constructed you to the best of his ability.

“Of course you did, silly. You’re perfect in everything, aren’t you?”

You laughed at him, your teeth shown in the little half-grin you had whenever you laughed. He smiled, feeling relief for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t delusional, though—he knew that this ‘you’ was merely an illusion. A half-assed attempt to bring himself some comfort. Your grin faltered and you frowned slightly, coming closer to him. You cupped his face in your soft, gentle hands.

“Don’t be that way,” you chided. “You’ve got to be strong for the others. Pidge, Lance, Hunk, Keith… Allura and Coran… me… the entire universe is depending on you.”

“I know,” he mumbled, his voice weak with exhaustion. “I know, which is why I’m not strong enough…”

“Yes, you are.” You smiled up at him, the warmth of it fanning the flames in his heart. Your hand drifted away from his face to his arm—the one replaced—and your fingers ran along the length of it. “You’re so strong, and I’m so proud of you.”

“How?” he demanded, pushing you away. “I haven’t seen you in—in a year and some. How could you even think of me in a good light? I promised you I’d be back, and I broke it!”

“But you’re alive,” you countered steadily. “And you can still be back, can’t you? You’ve got this alien spaceship; just _imagine_ what history you’ll make by bringing this knowledge back to Earth!”

Your words made him freeze and he turned slowly to stare at you.

“So, when are you coming back Shiro?” you asked, twirling a small strand of hair.

“Stop it!” he demanded through ground teeth. His mind obliged and you faded away, dissipating into swirling dust. He regretted it immediately, and because he was living in the world of the dead—as it was such, dreamers are practically corpses—his wish was granted and you rematerialized. This time you wore white and flicked back your veil thoughtfully. 

“You think that you’re not worth it,” you said to him, your dark eyelashes fluttering as you neared him. “You think that you don’t deserve it.”

“You’re right,” he replied truthfully, knowing very well he was only having a conversation with himself.

However, the ‘you’ that he had built up said what you would say, so you smiled.

“You’re my hero, Takashi. I love you.”

He awoke suddenly, only aware that he was because of crashing noises outside. Lance screeched with what was either terror or joy and there were other people yelling loudly. He opened his eyes slowly, the image of your lopsided grin already gone. 

He rose and went to start a new day, plastering the image that everything was all right on top of his face.


	3. [iii] daydream

“And your aunt in Kyoto? Should we invite her?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, add her to the list.”

“Your great grandparents in Osaka won’t be able to travel this far…”

“They might not be able to come, so we’ll just send them a lot of pictures.”

You smiled, the sight bedazzling him. “You’ve got such a big family, Shiro.”

“Yeah, they’re all crazy about you, too. My phone blew up when I told my parents.” He glanced over at you before asking, “what about you?”

“I’ll just be inviting a few people. Don’t worry, though, I won’t mind a big wedding. The more, the merrier!”

“We just have to figure out our dance, so that you don’t faceplant in front of my fifty cousins,” he prodded jokingly. You blushed lightly, pouting childishly.

“Takashi Shirogane! I told you not to bring that up.”

“Soon you’ll be Mrs. Shirogane.”

“Oh, right. I’ll have to figure out how to change my signature… hey, Shiro, do you promise not to cry?”

“What?”

“I swear, you’re going to cry during the wedding. If we ever have kids, you’ll start crying, too. You’re not even attractive when you cry. You look terrible. It’ll make the photos look bad.”

He chuckled softly. “No promises.”

“Shiro?”

He looked up, blinking rapidly to clear the glaze that had formed. The entire Voltron crew stared at him as if he’d been called on in class to answer a question that everybody knew, save for him.

“What?” he asked. 

“You seem out of it, sport. Been sleepin’ at all?” Coran questioned, leaning in close to look at his face. Shiro gently pushed the Altean aside and shrugged, deciding that he didn’t need to lie.

“I’ve been having some trouble,” he admitted, feeling sheepish for it. Keith of all people spoke first.

“Go get some sleep, then. It’s no good to have a leader that’s not healthy.”

“Seconded. But I was going to say it first,” Lance said, glaring at the other male. 

“Guys,” Hunk sighed exasperatedly before Keith could retort, “do you really have to fight over that?”

They continued to seethe at each other, silently.

“Maybe take some sleeping pills? Coran was telling me about some herbs they had on Altea that helped people go to sleep easier.” Pidge smiled up at him and he smiled back wearily.

“Thanks,” he muttered. The image of your smile overlapped in his head with Pidge’s. He shuddered slightly. 

Later, Allura approached him alone, as the rest of the crew tried to pull Lance and Keith apart. She smiled at him sympathetically.

“Nightmares?” she asked. He flinched without saying anything, but he guessed that his expression told enough. Allura sighed and sat next to him.

“I’ve slept for ten thousand years, and every time I close my eyes, I think about my father and what went wrong… well, what I mean to say is that you’re not alone, Shiro. The herbs Coran will give you should help greatly.” She patted his arm where you used to touch him and nodded once. “Get some rest. You deserve it.”

“Sure…” he muttered, his voice trailing off. Allura squeeze his forearm—the human one—and he looked at her.

“Promise me?” she asked, her blue eyes light hearted.

_“Promise me?” you asked, your eyes light hearted. “Promise me you won’t cry?_

_“Promise me… that you’ll come back alive…?”_

Shiro decided not to say anything at all and stood, excusing himself to his room where he could cry alone.


	4. [iv] nightmare

The tea had made him irresistibly sleepy, just as Coran had promised. He slumped into his bunk appreciatively and had fallen asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Allura had mentioned that the tea might ease his night terrors some, erasing dreams entirely. That would mean that he couldn’t get to see you; but then again, the only things you said to him in his dreams were his own constructions of self-hatred, and the real you would never. It was as if he were offending you this many light-years away by allowing your dream version to torment him in a way that you wouldn’t even dare to think of. 

Which is why he was so horrified to see you strung up and bloody.

You looked up weakly. Your voice was a hoarse shell of what it had been, so broken down that he barely heard you. “Shiro?”

“I’m here!” he wheezed after the initial shock, rushing forwards. You cried out in pain when he touched your arm lightly, trying to look up at the chains binding you up to the wall. His heart ached at the sound and he tried to look at your face closely. “What happened?! How did you even get here?”

“Shiro, behind you…”

He whirled round and saw his team—even Allura and Coran—hung up on the walls like sick and grisly Christmas ornaments. Their heads were all slumped forwards and he could especially see the lines of gritty blood trailing from Pidge’s pale skin. Pidge was the smallest of them and dangled especially high, arms bent in unnatural ways. 

“Leave me to save them,” you whispered. He turned to look at you, desperation making his heart pound. His hands shook. What happened? What could he do?

“I won’t,” he spat out past the anxiety, his eyes searching frantically. But what did he do? Could he even do anything at all?

“Of course you can’t,” the witch rasped, her piercing voice wavering in the darkness like a discordant musical note. He turned to it but saw nothing. The shackles that had held up his friends were gone, pools of blood replacing the flooring near them. Afraid of what he might see, he turned back to you, but you had vanished, too. Instead it was his own self, a scarred amalgamation of man and machine—he smirked at Shiro and lunged for his throat. The metal arm seized his windpipe and Shiro gasped for breath that wouldn’t come, his own heartbeat making it feel as if his eyes might burst out of his skull. The witch cackled gleefully. Shiro managed to regain his intellect enough to flip his assailant onto the floor, loosening the grip on his throat enough to gulp a sour breath down. He was about to press his own hands into ‘his’ throat before stopping, eyes wide with horror. You choked on your own tears, sobbing underneath him.

“Why did you do this to me?” you howled sorrowfully, “why?”

“No,” he muttered to himself, clutching his head. He had to be dreaming. That was the only logical explanation—

But was it? After all, he could remember little to nothing about his time on the ship. What if you had also been abducted? What if this dream was a reconstruction of his lost memories, and you really were…?

Your piercing scream broke his concentration and he began running towards it before thinking about anything else. But no matter how fast or far he tried to go, the doors on either side of him went on forever, and the hall never seemed to shorten. Your sobs beckoned for him, demanded him, but he couldn’t get anywhere close to you. Frustrated, he skidded to a stop and turned to look behind, seeing nothing but the same hazy hall. No guards roamed; the only thing tangible was the endless doors and your endless shrieks for help.

The scene melted and he realized he was seeing you again, Rushing forwards, your name was already on his tongue when he saw the gash across your face, across your nose. It looked like his. Your eyes were closed and you lay on the ground, expression peaceful as you slowly bled. He shook your shoulders to rouse you, but your eyelids remained shut.

“Come on, wake up,” he pleaded, both with you and himself. “Come on, come on…”

Your eyes opened and you looked up at him dreamily through the blood. 

“Shiro… You’re…”

“Don’t speak, you’ll only make it worse.” He ripped his sleeve with his teeth and pressed the mangled fabric to your wound, his hand shuddering so badly that he nearly missed. “Just rest.”

“Takashi?” you spoke, voice muffled by his makeshift bandage. You stared at him with clear eyes. “You’re a monster.”

“Please don’t,” he begged hurriedly, squeezing his eyes shut. When he reopened them, you had completely bled through his cloth, your eyes dark and glazed over. “Don’t say that to me,” he pleaded again, feeling so utterly pathetic and weak. “Don’t—not you, I can’t take it if I hear it from you…”

“You’re just talking to yourself,” you scolded, sitting up and batting aside his hand. You glared at him coldly. “You’re the one who thinks that you’re a monster.” You spoke in rapid Japanese now, your voice morphing into that of his mother’s. “You’re the one who thinks you’re a freak. And darling, you’re right. You don’t deserve to lead Voltron. You don’t even deserve to be alive. You—”

“Stop, _please_!” he screamed.

The illusion shattered but he was still aboard the Galran ship. Awake. Shiro searched the hall, turning in circles like a hunted rabbit, trying to find his escape. Whether he had to find a way out of the ship or out of his own twisted mentality, he didn’t know, but he only wanted it to stop. 

“It won’t end if you’re still alive.”

Your voice startled him and he turned quickly, crouching and clenching his fists in order to properly fight if needed. You stood in front of him, clad in your casual wear, arms crossed over your chest. You smiled at him wryly and relaxed your arms, walking closer to him, each step clanging loudly on the metal flooring of the alien ship.

“It won’t end if you’re still alive,” you repeated, your voice soft. “You’ll feel happiness, joy, and love when you’re alive. But you will suffer. As long as you are alive, you will suffer.”

“What are you saying? What do you mean?” He pleaded with you, reaching out. You were too far. When he blinked, you were gone, the image of your smile tracing the backs of his eyelids.

“It won’t end if you’re still alive. So, would you like to die?”

The witch took your place and ran at him. Frozen in place, he could only watch as the witch came closer, and closer, finally thrusting a blade into his vulnerable body—

“Die,” you whispered to him, your hair tickling his face. 

“Shiro, wake _up_!”

He gasped for breath as if coming up from underwater and flailed, kicking himself awake and as far away from ‘you’ as he could. He felt arms around him and screamed, shoving it away from his as hard as he could. He heard a body hit the ground and after catching his breath and getting the blurriness out of his vision, he realized it was Keith. 

“Shiro, are you okay?” Hunk asked, peering into his face. The younger boy’s hands gripped Shiro’s shoulders so tightly that it hurt and he was shaken around. “You were yelling and screaming!”

“Woke us all up,” Lance muttered bitterly. Everybody glared at him and he put his tanned hands up in defense. “Doesn’t mean I’m not worried! Look, Shiro, dude. Bro. You need some serious help.”

“I know I do,” Shiro snapped hotly in response, pushing Pidge and Hunk aside and clambering to his shaky feet. He stalked out of his room, ignoring his crew’s calls. His head and heart pounded and the only thing he could think of was your sorrowful smile as you whispered to him,

_“Die.”_


	5. [v] wakingup

Shiro managed to calm himself down by pacing the main navigator’s room, his eyes wandering out to the many stars that drifted past lazily. Movement relaxed him and he hugged himself tightly, the cold of the Galran ship not quite gone. Thankfully, nobody tried to follow him, and he was left alone for the time being. He stopped in front of the main windowpane, staring at the pinpricks of light that twinkled at him. None of them were Earth. The well of anger and fear and frustration boiled over once again and he yelled with frustration, pounding the glass with his knuckles. They stung, but the pain brought him more alertness. He looked down at his right hand, clenching and unclenching, the fibres of the bionic arm curling silently. He grit his teeth with disgust.

“Shiro?”

Allura’s voice made his heart jump and he whirled around to see her standing a respectful distance away. He cradled his fist to himself, looking down guiltily. What did he have to say?

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his back teeth clenched. “I shouldn’t be like this—”

“Nobody’s blaming you,” she cut in, shaking her head so that her white hair bounced. She didn’t come closer, but merely stood, her eyes focused on the stars outside.

“We can’t… talk to anybody on Earth, right?” he asked, despite knowing the answer. “It’s just not possible?”

“No. Like I said, we’re too far, and your technology is too primitive to receive our signal. I’m sorry, Shiro, but we won’t be communicating with Earth for a while. I wish you could.” Her sympathy was just that; sympathy, and it would not help him.

“I just… wanted to talk to my family, and…” His lips pressed into a tight line at the thought of you. The thought of you dying, battered and hung up like a trophy; the thought of you with that gash across your face, the one that had also cut him; the thought of your smile; the thought of your grin when you had stabbed him.

“I’m sorry, Shiro. Maybe soon, we will be able to fly by, and…”

“It’s fine,” he said tiredly, shaking his head once. He smiled at her, but they both knew it was a front. “I’ll be fine.”

“Who is she?” Allura suddenly asked.

“Sorry?”

“The woman’s name you kept calling out.”

“She’s… somebody I need. But that doesn’t matter. I’m awake now, so it’s fine.”

“So what’ll happen the next time you go to sleep, Shiro?” Allura called after him angrily as he stepped down the bridge and into the hall. He paused for only a brief second, turning to say,

“I don’t know. I just… I won’t sleep then.”

“Hey, Shiro—!”

He continued to walk away, unsure of where he was going. In his head, you sighed gently, in a disapproving sort of way.

_“You shouldn’t run from your problems, Takashi.”_

But no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t run from his own mind; one that tormented him whether he was conscious or not.

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: https://goo.gl/ycc7iN


End file.
